Lunenburg
Lunenburg, NS:
Home of the Bluenose.
A UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Once a bustling fishing town.
Once my home.
Josh and I just moved to Newfoundland, a new beginning, an even more interesting journey. Moving can be heavy not only on the car, but on the mind. So, I'm using this quiet moment on a rainy afternoon in April to force myself to think about my old town.
Hometown, the Maritimes.
To me, the above image manages to capture the quiet and introspective spirit of how I grew up. That's my mother and the family dog, Buddy.
An anecdote for you, that little spaniel was once the fattest most joyful dogs I've ever seen. Uncoordinated too. Back in the 7th grade I was walking to the school bus with my little sister one snowy windswept day. Now, our dogs would always walk us to the bus so the circumstances of what I'm about to share with you is not unusual, nor was his behaviour. Buddy was following along with us, jovially, more like a bunny than a dog. Well, he began to run in loping strides too big for his small fat body, bum wiggling, snow flying behind him. A sight all in it's own. He's running, jumping, he's... he's run into the trailer of the parked boat face on, blinded by his own joy and floppy ears. I promise he was just fine, though I think we missed the bus that day from laughing so much at the little creature.
Though I haven't always lived in the maritimes, it's where I identify with. The maritimes have a particular harsh beauty, with stunted pines that cling to storm blown granite cliffs. Red mud housing small boulders and fossils like gems. Quiet moments at home watching the fire burn in the hearth. Less quiet moments in the crisp fall air with the wood splitter and the chainsaw whining, allowing us to split the plentiful birch and oak.
Nova Scotia, a closer look.
The stark beauty of the Nova Scotia country side contrasts with the vibrancy of the towns that popped up, forming stubborn outcrops along the ocean side. The houses look harsh on a foggy day, yelling in the greyness of the weather. It's like the old fisherman's wives took offence to the natural colours of the ocean, the gentle greys and greens, and painted their houses in flaming colours out of revolt for their quiet and difficult lives.
As soon as you walk amongst the small fisherman's coves or into the bustling brightness of the larger towns you are struck by the nature of the folk that live there. Often humble, usually quirky, and definitely the nicest people you'll meet. The way they live their lives translates into their interactions - supporting local, everything green, recycling and compost bins that you can't remember but with a list.
Because I can't resist promoting some of my favourite haunts, and because I can't imagine living without good coffee - if you ever make it down to the South Shore of Nova Scotia, you simply must follow the light house route, hop aboard the ferry run by kindly old timers, and stop in at the Lahave Bakery. Best cappuccino in Nova Scotia, I promise.
